Page 60 of If You Come Back To Me (If You Come Back To Me 1)

“Mari?” Marc asked, his voice louder than Colleen’s had been.

Mari blinked. How long had she been standing there while her heart hammered in her ears? Marc was coming toward her, his brows drawn together. She stupidly offered him a bottle of juice.

“It’s not very cold,” she said. “I think the vending machine was broken.”

He looked at her like she’d been speaking in Swahili. He put his hand on her upper arm. She started. She hated the way his jaw hardened at her instinctive recoil from his touch, but there was nothing Mari could do.

That old feeling of helplessness had risen in her again.

“I think I should go,” she said quietly to Marc.

“Because of what you just heard?” Marc demanded, blue eyes flashing.

“Mari, please don’t,” Colleen said hastily. “I was feeling sorry for myself. I’m sure what I said to Mom had nothing to do with—”

“You don’t believe that,” Mari interrupted levelly. She turned back to Marc and handed him the other bottle of juice. He seemed so stunned by unfolding events that he accepted it automatically.

“I’ll take you home,” he said.

“No. I can walk.” She didn’t know what had come over her, but she felt strangely calm despite her rapid heartbeat. She met Marc’s stare, trying her best to seem reassuring even though she felt powerless at that moment. “Everything will be okay, Marc. I’ll get my things from you later. You should see your mother right now.”

Marc looked like he was about to protest when Colleen spoke, sounding a little weary.

“I’ll take Mari home. It’ll take me five minutes. You should go on in, Marc. Mom’s waiting for you.”

Mari didn’t glance back when Colleen touched her elbow. They walked away.

When she arrived home, Ryan came down the hallway, bare-chested and holding a butter knife. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and a surprised expression.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow.”

“We came back a little early,” Mari said. She parked her rolling suitcase at the bottom of the stairs and placed her fingertips on her eyelids. When she opened them, she was staring at a steely bicep.

“Cool tattoo,” she said dully, examining the artist’s rendering of the logo of the Air Force wings morphing into an eagle taking flight. “When did you get that?”

“Two…three years— Who cares?” he asked, interrupting himself impatiently. “Are you okay, Mari?”

“Yeah. I’m just really, really tired. I need to go to bed.” She started up the stairs, but turned back. Ryan was staring at her with something close to alarm. “I’m okay, Ryan. Marc’s mom just had a heart attack. It took us by surprise, that’s all.”

His mouth dropped open.

“Like I said, I’m just tired. Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“I don’t want any visitors. No one.”

Ryan nodded, looking somber.

Mari sighed and trudged up the stairs. She was too fatigued to think…to feel. She felt as if weariness had soaked into her very bones.

This was the ending to the

ir magical weekend. Somehow, it didn’t surprise her.

Her bedroom faced west, so it was bright with sunshine. She began to draw the curtains. When she reached the window next to the elm tree, she made sure it was locked before she shut out the remainder of the golden evening light. She thought of how she’d planned to spend that evening in Marc’s arms after telling him about her pregnancy.

But the past had a way of sneaking up on you when you least expected it.

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